Keeper
by LoveKricket
Summary: Sometimes people put up walls  Not to keep others out  But to see who cares enough  To break them down   season 2 - around Grilled Cheezus


**Keeper**

**Watcher of All**

Kurt Hummel x Burt Hummel x Brittany x (a sprinkle of O.C.)

This sprouted while my class was taking a tour of a water treatment facility. Which has nothing to do with the story, don't worry. That's just the way my mind works.

I love reviews so so much! *hint hint*

I don't own Glee, or any of the Characters. ENJOY :D

**Sometimes people put up walls**

**Not to keep others out**

**But to see who cares enough**

**To break them down**

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"Just," his voice cracked and he coughed to clear it. "Just go _away_!"

"Kurt, talking about it could really help. I know the church thing did, even if you say it didn't."

"Mercedes-"

"Kurt!"

Kurt exhaled loudly, clenching his fists and staring at the white plastic edges of his father's bed. He wasn't being very nice to his best friend, but, in his own defense his father had been in the ugly blanched walls of the hospital far to long.

His eyes traveled up to his fathers face, eyes closed. You would think he was asleep, that's how peaceful he looked. And yet… the tubes out of his mouth and the various wires that were connected to a never ending beeping machine would indicate anything but sleep.

"Just GET OUT!"

She must have finally understood. All that non-organic hairspray must have made her expectably ignorant because usually, she was the one person he could count on to understand her.

It had been a solid five days. Five days at home, sleeping in the giant king sized bed. Cocooned under layers of sheets that smelt like his father, and even one that his mother had knitted.

Not that he actually ever slept, as of late.

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Two days later, and still no word from Mercedes; or any of the Gleek's. Not that he blamed them. It's not like he had been thankful for their support. Actually, it was starting to really piss him off.

But, whatever. He would shrug it off like every morning dumpster toss, like every slushie, every homophobic note or phone call, like every solo that was given to Rachel. He juggled the coffees and slid the door open.

"Hey Dad," he called out, kicking the door shut behind him. "I brought you the usual. Two creams, five sugars."

He placed one of the mugs at the bedside table, slipped off his shoes and huddled into the uncomfortable hospital chair. "Joe called me this morning. Apparently the bills were late at the garage today. They're completely hopeless. Anyways, so I spent my morning there. Got grease all over my new jacket. You know the one you helped me pick out?"

That was one memory that he clenched onto. Burt had taken Finn to a game where the guys wore ugly and colourful spandex and chased a ball that probably had better places to be. Anyways, Kurt had sulked for a bit before they came home, and apparently, Carol had reported it, like a good little girlfriend.

The next day, the two of them went out to the local café, logged onto one of the internet connections and began to shop. It was a jean jacket, quite like the one his father owned. The only difference was that Burt's was a cheap knock off from the late 80's and Kurt's was quite sheik.

"School was great today," he told, quite sarcastically, before laughing painfully, and further admitting, "You would probably be pretty disappointed in me, actually. I think I successfully pissed off all of my friends. Hell, even Ms. Pillsbury looks away. They hate me. They don't understand. Dad, please wake up."

He sat for a bit in silence, resting his chin on his rounded knees that he drew to his chest, waiting, as always, for his father to wake up.

After some time, a soft hand rested on his shoulder and he looked up into two sparkling blue eyes, a (creepy, for the hospital) smile and long blond hair that tickled down to his cheeks.

"Oh, hello, Britt." He said, setting his cold coffee onto the nightstand and angrily wiping away the tears that had dried on his fragile skin.

"Hello, Kurty. And Mr. Kurt," she skipped around the chair and plopped onto the second cushion. She turned her head to the side, letting her left ear dip to her shoulder and pouted, "We don't hate you Kurt. They never understand. They all think I'm a stupid blond, but I proved them wrong, right?"

Kurt just shakes his head and links his fingers, looking at the chipped overcoat that he applied early this morning. "Sure, Brittany, sure."

"Do you wana know a secret?" she reached over and plucked his hands, cradling them between her own; "You really do have the softest hands."

"Thanks, but it's not much of a secret."

"Oh, no that's not the secret. And it's not that Santana and I had a sleep over last night, even though she told me not to tell anyone, so it probably is a secret…" she rolls her eyes, but returns to the conversation uncharacteristically quickly. "I see angels."

Kurt feels his eyebrows rise, and he tucks his chin in, pursing his lips and staring at the girl. She was _so_ ridiculous. Angels? Didn't he already explain that he wasn't religious? He could cross freaking his friends out of praying off the list, too.

"You're looking at me like I'm crazy. But I'm not crazy. I can see mine, his names Raphelo, and I can see yours," she clicks her head to the side, eyes wide and drank in the sleeping father's figure, "and I can see you're dads. She sad. She's crying. She-"

"Look, Brittany. I get that you're trying to make me feel better. But can you leave? I want to be alone with Dad." Okay, sure it was a down right lie. All he got these days was alone time. But he just couldn't deal with Brittany's crazy right now.

Brittany let go of his hands, standing and straightening her short skirt out, "Sure Kurt, I'll come by tomorrow. If Santana will let me…" Kurt turns to wave good-bye, but Brittany is staring over his head, blankly at the wall. She nods her head and flicks back to him. "Oh, Kurt," she says, as if seeing him for the first time, "Would you like me to draw a picture of you're dads angel?" She smiles and looks again over his head, "bye than!"

And she's gone before he can even register her offer. A picture? His mind wonders back to the 'book' she made him. The biology project that was currently sitting forgotten on the floor.

Kurt leans under the bed, finding the book easily; after all, it was lime green. He fingered the two delicate bees on the cover, slowly sliding back into his chair and placing the pages on his knees. His fingers brush over the glitter and the title ("Hart A Tacks"), and his flipping the page open before he has time to think about it.

Inside are little fire-truck red shapes, seemingly ants armed with pitchforks and a giant crayon heart in the middle. It's labeled with swigged and arrows, properly spelt, but not necessarily to the right spot.

All in all, it looks a bit like the crayon hearts he drew in first grade for Tina on Valentines Day. He feels his face fall, from the loss of hope. A guardian angel was just what he wanted. A picture though? From _Brittany_.

The thought had him bending at the waist and smiling in a way he hadn't felt for a while. The book dropped to the ground and he got another glimpse of the little ants. Light giggles filled the room, and he felt tears flow down his cheeks, but, for the life of him, he couldn't stop laughing.

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The next day brought the weekend, so pretty much 48 hours of active hospital duty. It was about noon when Kurt received an unexpected visitor.

"Kurtsy!" Brittany called, flouncing into the room, her 'friend', who crossed her arms and leaned against the glass window by the door, nodding a bit, but otherwise not changing her over all harshness.

"I don't have very much time, just enough to come drop this off…we're going for ice-cream! I drew it last night!" she flounced over and placed the paper on Kurt's knees, "Okay by than!"

Kurt looked down at the paper, eyes bulging as they fell across the faintly coloured red hair, the sparkling blue eyes, and the happy smile. He jumped out of his chair and spun to the door, "Brittany! Wait!" the girl popped her head through the door, "Where did you see this woman!"

"Silly!" she giggles and points to the far side of the room, "she's right there!"

Kurt froze and watched as his friends meandered away, swallowing painfully and not daring to turn around. Could Brittany have really seen her? That wasn't possible. Guardian Angels aren't real.

He looked at the hard and soft lines on the woman's face, eyes crinkled in a real smile and the fuzzy, too-big sweater looped around her neck. Although the drawing was that of the shoulders up, he knew that the sweater went down to the knees, over thin leggings and boots.

Water splatters onto the page and Kurt realized that he is crying. Three more drops followed and he quickly brushed the salt off, hoping that the paper wouldn't crinkle and the pencil lines wouldn't smudge.

He finally risked turning slowly, as if not to scare anything away. It didn't surprise him one bit when all he saw was his father, and yet, he found himself staring at the spot just over his father all night.

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Kurt had never been a strong sleeper, waking out of sleep at any creek in the house, at any rattle of the wind. So when he woke in the dark, not hearing anything but the beep of the machines, he looked around quizzically.

The beeping had become a regular noise to his background record, and it would be what he remembered in ten years time when he thought of his fathers' hospital visit.

He picked the blanked that had slid off his knees to the ground, fingering the carefully placed drawing on the chair beside him and pulling the blanket around his shoulders.

As he sat up, something caught his eye; the gentle waving hair, the tinkling giggle and the florescent purple nail polish and eye shadow. Her gaze flickered from the sleeping father to Kurt's, and she smiled briefly before doing their four fingered wave.

Kurt suddenly found it hard breathe, swallowing painfully and offering a quivering smile in return.

"Mom?"

The shy smile turned into a huge, toothy grin that sent chills up Kurt's back. His mother leaned down and placed a lingering kiss on his father's temple, retracting mournfully and trailing a slow finger to his chin.

Kurt's heart started to race as she neared him, but she blinked sadly and didn't pause to touch him in anyway. He turned in his seat to see her take the same turn as his friends did hours ago.

"Wait! Mom!" he dropped the blanket, and raced to the hallway, standing in the middle and sighing mournfully and spinning to look down the other way, but no, there was no Mrs. Hummel to be found anywhere.

Rapidly beeping in the machines brought Kurt racing back to his father's side, afraid that he too, was going to leave.

But as Kurt blinked away tears, and clutched at the cool hand, his fathers' green oceans peeked open.

"Kurt?"

"Yah dad, we're here."


End file.
